Shadow Trails in Azeroth

Plop

The touch and collision of falling into the cold water made Blake Shaw open his eyes at this moment.

Then he let out a cry of pain.

His whole body felt as if he had been thrown into the fire and roasted. The burning pain from everywhere made his whole body twitch. He tried hard to stabilize his body in the water.

Unfortunately, the body and limbs in severe pain did not listen to him.

Is this because the chassis has exploded? Although it is an old computer, it is just a copy, isn't it?

Confusing thoughts kept popping up in Blake's mind.

The next moment, all these random thoughts were put to an end.

Because between the shadows and the surging water, he saw what was happening on the sea.

The burning flame is flowing.

Those weird fires were not extinguished by the sea water, but continued to cling to the water and burn, burning everything that could be burned.

In the surrounding turbid water, there were broken pieces of ships everywhere, fallen bodies everywhere, and some sailors in armor struggling to survive in the water.

But they couldn't make any sound and could only suffocate and wait to die.

In Blake's sight, the undulating sea surface was higher up in the sky, and two black shadows nearly seventy meters long were passing by, spitting out flames.

The entire sea trembled under the ravages of this giant beast.

Is this a dragon?

The moment Blake opened his mouth, sea water poured in, causing him to immediately close his mouth. The burning pain radiating from all parts of his body made him unable to concentrate.

He twisted his rusty neck in a daze, looked around, and then looked at his hands and body in his hands. His clothes and other items were all burned badly by the dragon fire.

Severe skin burns.

It even made Blake feel like he was being melted.

This is not my body!

He was shocked when he saw fingers that were longer than he remembered.

The next moment, more chaotic memories rushed into his mind, like a floodgate opening, causing him to tremble for a few moments while covering his bare head in the water.

The third fleet of Kul Tiras. The sea battle of Khaz Modan and the orc tribe crossing the sea to Azeroth's Dark Portal opened the second orc war in the sixth year.

No!

Blake howled inwardly.

This was not how he wanted to see it unfold.

But now, this was not the time to hold his head and wait for death. In the twitching pain of the burn, he could feel that his life force was rapidly draining away.

It's like a balloon that has burst, and can't be stopped.

He was growing weak rapidly.

If he doesn't find a way quickly, his fantasy journey will end in five minutes at most.

He didn't think so.

I will still have the luck to be able to return to another world I am familiar with after another death.

Blake slapped his face in confusion to calm down and wanted to rise above the water, but the moment he touched his forehead, a translucent message appeared strangely in front of his eyes:

Character Card: Derek Proudmoore (Black Shaw)

Information: Kul Tiran Human, 19 years old

Status: Mortal body. Seriously injured. Weak. On the verge of death.

Class: Level 10 Warrior/Level 16 Navigator/Level 5 Rogue

Legendary class: none

Mythical class: none

Title: Prince of Kul Tiras

Equipment: none

Talents: Son of the Sea, Battle Hero, Proudmoore Bloodline (Seal of Hate)

Skill:

Kul Tiran Military Swordsmanship (Skilled)

Fatal Throw (Beginner)

Tidal Fist (Mastery)

Navigation (Mastery)

This character card.

After seeing this information, Blake's brain almost shut down for a moment.

He doesn't know what's going on?

Are you an NPC now?

And this neatly listed information and these familiar descriptions, isn't this the character setting of the running game that he and a group of bad friends often play?

So, am I in a running group story?

Or have you come to the real Azeroth?

But the next moment, he saw that only one fifth of the character card was left and the red bar was still decreasing, which brought him back to reality.

Let’s not worry about this for now.

If he couldn't find a way to save himself, he would either be burned to death by the remaining red dragon fire, or he would be suffocated to death in the sea water.

Under the crisis of life and death, Blake's mind was running wildly.

The memories engraved in my mind were quickly brought out.

When the game started, it was already 24 years after the Dark Portal. The Third Fleet was massacred and destroyed by the red dragon controlled by the Dragonmaw Clan. This was only a story that existed in the game background and mission chain.

Black didn't know much about the details of this naval battle, but as a mission expert, he almost immediately recalled a mission chain related to the sunken Third Fleet.

Right in the waters of Khaz Modan.

Right in the wetland!

Eighteen years later, Fitzmoths, an old sailor who had survived this battle, would turn to every greedy adventurer who passed by Menethil Port for help.

That bastard drunkard will blackmail the adventurer for a glass of expensive ale before giving him the quest.

Blake was very upset about the glass of ale he gave him.

After all, it is a gold coin.

But thanks to that gold coin, I knew it was here.

In the next moment, Blake made up his mind.

He worked hard to turn his body around in the water and swam towards the wreckage of the Dreadnought battleship that was falling into the deep sea not far away.

Every time I move my limbs it hurts.

But he must endure it.

If I couldn't get that thing, I would be dead today!

The memories belonging to Prince Derek Proudmoore that continuously emerged from his mind also confirmed Black's conjecture.

Kul Tiras' third fleet was not specifically here to block the orc fleet crossing the sea today.

They just have bad luck.

In fact, before they set off, they had no idea that the orcs would cross the sea at this time. The original mission of these two warships and five troop transports was to transport new recruits to the Wildhammer Highlands, where they would open up a battlefield behind enemy lines.

At the same time, transport a holy light artifact contaminated by the orc warlock to the Arathi Highlands, Stromgarde's capital, Stromgarde Castle.

That thing is called the Eye of Paris.

It was produced by the Holy Light Church decades ago. It was originally a sacred object used to bless believers, but when the Kingdom of Stormwind was conquered by the orcs two years ago, that thing also fell into the hands of the tribe.

The warlocks who played with shadow magic, led by Gul'dan, polluted it mercilessly and made it into an evil thing for curses.

The polluted Eye of Pareth fell into the seabed, turning the countless warriors who died in today's battle into ghosts, binding them to the coast of Khaz Modan forever.

This evil bondage lasted for eighteen full years!

It was cracked through the efforts of the adventurer tricked by the fleeing first mate, but the contaminated sacred vessel cannot be purified by ordinary priests.

It was sent to Stormwind Cathedral and purified by the hands of Archbishop Benedictus, the Second Son of the Light.

This vital information rolled over in Blake's mind. He endured the pain and spent less than two minutes rushing into the falling wreckage of the Dauntless.

Just below the captain's cabin.

boom

Blake pumped his fist hard in the water and pushed open the sealed hatch in front of him. Then, he saw the captain who committed suicide with a dagger in despair.

And the black magic suitcase he had in hand.

key!

Blake grabbed the suitcase and, regardless of the crime of desecrating the corpse, grabbed a bronze key from the waist of the suicidal captain.

His chest was about to explode at this point.

Even though this body had the Kul Tiran racial talent of being the son of the sea and could hold his breath longer in the water and swim faster, he was seriously injured now.

And getting weaker and weaker.

The red bar under the character card has dropped to a precarious level. In another ten seconds, it will be completely cleared.

The Tainted Eye of Pales is a terrible thing. Anyone who holds it will be cursed to become undead. If it is not purified, this curse will last forever.

Black's mind was still spinning. He inserted the key into the magic suitcase in the water and twisted it hard.

Click

As the seawater poured in, a purple-black, ominous light lit up in front of Blake's eyes on the dim seabed. He glanced at the bottomed blood bar.

Without any hesitation, he grabbed the palm-sized crystal ball in front of him.

ah

The surging dark magic flowed into Blake's body along his hands, and he could feel a cold and strange force exerted on him.

The pain of the burn was fading rapidly.

The passing life force is also blocked.

He could feel his breathing becoming heavier and his skin drying up rapidly. Within a few seconds, it was as dry as a mummy that had been dead for many years.

The mouth is losing its sense of taste, the brain is becoming foggy, and the sense of touch and smell is also being lost.

But his hearing became strangely clear.

It seemed that even the water in front of him had become darker, and there were low and strange whispers in his ears and heart, like mosquitoes buzzing in his ears.

One second later.

Blake Shaw stopped breathing.

But he didn't die.

He was simply cursed by an evil thing and turned into an undead form.

The undead will not be drowned, and the undead will not be afraid of pain. While the dark and evil magic curses him, it also solidifies his vitality.

The bottomed blood bar no longer dropped. As Blake stuffed the wet bread found in the wreckage of the battleship into his mouth, the blood bar began to rise slowly.

It must taste disgusting.

But it doesn't matter, he has no sense of taste now.

Survived.

Blake felt relaxed at this moment. He was just suspended in the sea, and he was still in the mood to put the crystal ball in his hand and look at it.

It deserves to be called the Eye of Paris.

He didn't know who Pares was, maybe he was a priest of the Holy Light, maybe he was the maker of this magic item, but this crystal ball really looked like a purple eye.

Continuously spreading malice around.

The longer he stared at it, the more intense the whispers would sound in Blake's heart. The more he tried to listen, the less clearly he could hear them. There was obviously something wrong with this thing.

Azeroth, this is the meeting gift you gave me.

The undead Black Shaw sighed.

He looked back at the sea behind him. The light from the sky was refracted in the sea, reflecting the ominous paleness and the corpses of the sailors who were about to be buried in the cold abyss.

Those damaged battleships, those torn battle flags.

Those ones

Buried Glory.

He was suspended in the sea, moving his limbs, like a silent observer, and like a participant in the aftermath of the disaster. The sunlight above his head shone along the burning sea surface into the deep sea, reflecting the pale and flowing lines. , ominous light.

He will never forget what he saw today.

These dead will be forgotten.

But he will remember them, and remember this massacre today.

The memory belonging to Prince Derek Proudmoore also came to mind at this moment.

Blake was also moved by the scene. After hanging silently in the sea for a few minutes, he slowly raised his hand, using his undead body, to perform a standard Kul Tiran military salute to the scene in front of him.

He took one last look at the roaring hell behind him, then turned around, grabbed the suitcase and the cursed evil weapon, swayed his limbs, and swam farther to the sea.

There is nothing in this sea except death and resentment.

It is no longer worthy of the living.